Are you satisfied with an average life?
by cookiesforfrogs
Summary: A birthday drink with a favourite professor will become a turning point. After the first couple of chapters it will follow Hermione's life after graduation as she struggles to cope with the consequences of the war.
1. Are you satisfied with an average life?

_Disclaimer: Shockingly I don't own the Harry Potter universe – I know you are amazed to learn this. Also the title is from Are you satisfied? by Marina and the Diamonds  
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_A/N: a little short tease of a chapter, updates should be fairly often – perhaps fortnightly or even weekly. I never expected to write a HG/MM story but reading Bonding by asouldreams has made me a believer in the pairing._

_Eventually this will be femslash._

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><p><em>19th September 1996 (Hermione's 17th Birthday and 6th year at Hogwarts)<em>

The corridors of Hogwarts are never really empty or still. Even at night the paintings run between frames, visiting friends taking the opportunity to engage in frivolity and debauchery while the students sleep. Ghosts wander the passageways trying to find companions to stave off the thoughts of regrets and past lives. Teachers patrol muttering under their breath about the unfairness of late night patrols followed by a day of classes.

And yet as Albus Dumbledore strode through the halls, one could be forgiven for thinking the castle was abandoned. Fingers curling the end of his beard, as his robes flowed behind him, Albus considered the time remaining to him. Heading in to the next great adventure with regrets was inevitable, there was too much from his past for which he would never be able to atone. However he hoped to leave knowing that if nothing else those left behind would have a chance of happiness.

Approaching his destination Albus was surprised to hear the faint sound of laughter. Meeting the eyes of Godric Gryffindor, Albus raised an eyebrow in question.

"Ah headmaster, as you may have guessed Minerva has company." The dead founders portrait stood eight feet tall, the ornate frame acted as the doorway to the head of Gryffindor's private rooms. Godric was in his prime, a comfortable chair and small side table sat in front of the large red and gold Gryffindor banner.

"I had indeed surmised as much. I am curious though as to whom that company happens to be."

Godric Gryffindor smiled "I'm afraid you will have to ask the esteemed deputy headmistress."

"Of course. Would you please ask Minerva if perhaps I might be so rude as to intrude?"

Nodding Godric disappeared from his frame, leaving the headmaster to his thoughts. Barely a few seconds went by before Godric was back, without a word the portrait swung open revealing a warm and inviting sitting room. Magical light flittered down from the ceiling, the spell for which was a long held McGonagall family secret, and a fire crackled merrily, keeping the cold night at bay.

Albus paused for a moment taking in the sight before him. Minerva sat comfortably in a wingback chair, still dressed in her teaching robes but with her lustrous hair released from its confining bun and a glass of whiskey in her hands. Opposite her in an identical chair was Hermione Granger, an identical glass raised to her lips. And although she was becoming nervous now she had spotted him, it was clear her posture had been relaxed. School robes had been replaced by a simple blouse and jeans.

"Albus, do you need to speak to me?" Hermione glanced at Minerva in surprise and Albus felt his own surprise increase. He had never known his deputy to call him by his first name in front of a student before. Fleetingly the idea to mention the time and the glass of whiskey in Hermione's hand, passed through his mind but was quickly dismissed by the curiosity and desire to understand the situation before him.

"I was merely hoping to find some engaging conversation to distract me from the rather large accumulation of correspondence on my desk awaiting my response." Albus kept his voice light not wishing to adversely affect the mood of the room.

"Ah well in that case please, pull up a chair. It is Hermione's 17th birthday, would you care to join us for a glass Albus? We are discussing the relationship between energy and transfiguration."

"I would love a drink thank you Minerva and many happy returns." Albus hid his surprise as he watched his deputy pour a glass of her families rare 1890 whiskey, judging by the half empty bottle the two had been celebrating for quiet sometime already.

"Ah, transfiguring energy, a fascinating subject." Drawing his wand, he quickly transfigured the plush floor rug into a comfortable, squishy armchair. Causing Minerva's eyes to narrow slightly, she was rather attached to that rug. "and what is your view…" he hesitated slightly "Hermione?" He nodded gratefully as he accepted the glass of aged alcohol from Minerva.

"Despite Minerva's half-hearted attempts to convince me otherwise I still believe it's possible to transfigure energy. Magic has the ability to manipulate energy with charms and other spells, transfiguring it isn't such a big leap." Hermione's voice

Albus smiled as he watched his friend engage in debate with young girl. And he began to believe that perhaps he could leave this world not having to worry for the dear friend he had begun to fear would always be alone.


	2. It's not my problem

_Chapter 2 - It's not my problem if you don't see what I see_

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><p><em>One Week Later.<em>

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><p>"Minerva" gentle blue eyes stared across the short expanse of the chess table into the dismissive emerald eyes of the deputy of Hogwarts. "I am not judging you, quite the opposite in fact. I am hoping you will acknowledge the opportunity for happiness." The fire crackled in the privacy of Albus's living room, the walls here some of the few in the castle free from the prying eyes of portraits.<p>

"Honestly Albus, how can you say such utter tosh. She is a student." As Albus opened his mouth Minerva beat him to it. "And before you start, I feel nothing for her."

Albus was beginning to suspect he should have gotten his companion drunk before beginning this conversation. The two glasses of whiskey didn't seem to have relaxed her much. There was a flexible rod of iron that ran through Minerva, she bent when she needed to, but by God she could be stubborn when she dug her claws her in.

The distinguished wizard's head bowed as a sigh escaped his lips. "Tabby, I will be dead within the year. I have spent my life fighting darkness, though for far less noble reasons than you have. Throughout my life I made more mistakes then I care to acknowledge and I will leave this world with many regrets. As one dear friend to another will you grant me a final wish?"

Straightening in her chair Minerva didn't flinch from the watery stare of her closet friend, no matter how hard she found his gaze to hold.

"Aye, I will." The words were thick with her normal mild Scottish accent. "You know I'll do whatever I can to aide you in your preparations." It was clear she suspected the trap but saw no way to avoid it.

Albus nodded, he knew his request would draw Minerva's ire but in the end he believed it to be in her best interests.

"When Hermione graduates, ask her out for dinner." Holding up a finger to halt Minerva's rant from beginning he continued. "I know you Tabby, and Hermione is only the second person whom I have ever thought could be a good match for you. And the other as we both know, you had no interest in."

Seeing the anger growing on Minerva's face Albus ploughed on hating that he was manipulating her with guilt into agreeing but seeing no alternative.

"Please Tabby, there is very little light in this world these days. Let me face the next adventure knowing you have a chance to be happy and in love. One dinner, and should you hate every minute of it then you can have the satisfaction of proving me wrong."

Minerva sighed, fingers kneading her forehead. Why was it that Albus could get her to agree to anything he wanted? Damn manipulative bastard.

"I need another glass of whiskey."

Albus quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I am not about to agree to date a student when I'm sober Albus." She rolled her eyes as if that should be obvious. "One dinner, no more than that Albus."

Albus smiled widely as he poured a generous glug of whiskey into Minerva's waiting glass. Now he just needed to talk to Miss Granger.

"Why is it you can manipulate half the wizarding world, but ministers for magic always cause you such trouble?"

"I believe the job comes with curse freeing them from being affected by my considerable charm." He allowed himself to smile at Minerva as he savoured the taste of the expensive liquor.

Minerva shook her head, weather in amusement or frustration Albus wasn't sure. "If I had known that I would've run for office years ago."

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><p><em>Sorry this snippet is such a tease it is the shortest thing I have ever posted all other chapters will be longer than this. I will try to update quickly to make up for the length of course reviews help motivate me … hint hint. Oh and I feel compelled to say that we won't see Dumbledore's conversation with Hermione. <em>


	3. And I do not give a damn

_Chapter 2 - _And I do not give a damn if you don't believe.

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><p><em>Sunday 20<em>_th__ October 1996._

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><p>His office door flew open as his closest friend strode into the room. Her relaxed attire attested to the fact this wasn't Hogwarts business, and he resisted a smile as he guessed the reason for her visit had something to do with a certain witch. A flick of his wand dismissed the portraits freezing them out of the room, and providing the privacy this conversation demanded.<p>

"This is ridiculous Albus, I don't know what I was thinking. You have to stop this and release me from my promise. I know you have said something to her, whatever it was has caused her to seek my counsel on a near nightly basis. I have told you countless times, though you will no doubt ignore me this time just as you have all the others. I feel nothing for her." Standing on the other side of his desk she glared down at him. No one else would hear the edge of desperation and pleading in her voice, but then no one else had known her for 60 years.

"Minerva why do you continue to fight this when it is clear –"

"Because she is a child goddamn it, a child." Minerva's hand slammed down on the desk. "And I am an old woman entrusted to teach her. I am not some pervert to lust after a child and abuse them."

"No you're not." Albus made his voice gentle and warm. "You have done nothing wrong, and despite your feelings for her I doubt you have acted inappropriately."

A blush coloured Minerva's face before she grimaced. "These past few weeks I have found myself suffering from some unwelcome thoughts."

"She is of age." He knew Minerva would never cross the line with a student but he was pleased that he had been correct about the attraction.

"That doesn't make it right Albus, I am still her teacher and an old woman." Some of the fight seemed to have drained from Minerva's body now and she sat down heavily. Her green eyes flickering closed for just a second. The merry glow of the fire provided a golden shimmer to her hair, and banished any hint of the October cold from Minerva's body.

"I could take over her education or perhaps Filius." A few flicks of his wand found a tumbler of whiskey floating in front of Minerva. Plucking it from the air she nodded gratefully at him, as Albus raised his own glass to his lips.

"Don't be ridiculous, you have far too much to do as it is. Taking on my teaching duties would leave you no time to complete those tasks which only you can finish, and Filius while a talented wizard, is not a master in transfiguration. To provide Hermione a substandard education would be a crime. I will not allow any personal feelings to interfere with my teaching." Minerva's weary voice regained some of its familiar steel towards the end.

"I have no doubt of that, but if it would make it easier for you, I would find the time to teach her." It would be difficult however if it meant being able to ensure a chance at future happiness for Minerva then he would do it.

"Why are you so obsessed with this?" there was exasperation in the witches voice although there was a hint of curiosity.

Tenting his fingers together Albus leaned forward "Because you have done more for this world than most will ever know. You deserve to have the happiness your sacrifices have allowed so many others to have. You are still young –"

Minerva snorted at that before bringing the tumbler of whiskey to her mouth and letting the burn of the alcohol flow through her.

"You are 77 not the 140 you make yourself appear. We both know you are barely middle aged without even considering the effects on your life span of being an animagus. You could easily live to be 180 and that is a long time to live alone." Although never placed in any publish volume it was well known among transfiguration masters that many animagi experienced an increased life span.

"She is a child" the voice was dull now and lacked conviction.

"She is of age and your intellectual equal. I doubt it will be long before the prophet begins announcing you have competition for the title of greatest living witch." He tried to inject some humour in to his voice in an effort to lighten his friends mood.

This produced another snort and a mild smile "It is a title I would eagerly pass onto her."

Minerva looked at the face of her friend for over 50 years and felt her will to resist crumble, she couldn't go back on her word to him. And there was a part of her eager to fulfil that promise even if she didn't want to admit it. "Fine I will stand by my word, but this counts as your Christmas present as well."

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><p><em>Thank you all for the reviews. Sorry about this chapter, they get better after this.<em>


	4. It's my business

Chapter Four - And it's my business if I feel the need to Smoke and drink and sway

_August 1999 – Newt Results day_

The London air carried the scent of happiness and joy little more than a year ago Minerva doubted she would ever be surrounded by such a thing again. But she had survived yet another war, darkness falling to light, the sun emerging once more from the clouds. Darkness would come again, such was the cycle of life but Merlin she hoped it would be long after she was buried and forgotten. Three wars were more than enough for anyone to have to endure.

Minerva's eyes swept across Hermione's back garden, the relatively small block of flats where the young woman lived loomed over them as the setting sun caused the windows to sparkle down on the revellers. Witches and wizards were everywhere, the numerous red heads dotted around attested to the presence of the Weasley clan. Nearly all of the surviving members of the order, and most of those Hermione had gone to school with, including a good chunk of those who were also graduating this year.

The few muggles in the crowd looked astounded at the number of people crammed in to the back yard. Which wasn't surprising since Hermione and Filius had conducted a tricky piece of wand work to extend the space. According to Filius the garden was a communal one and Hermione was honour bound to invite her neighbours, who unfortunately, would find tomorrow morning that they had only fuzzy memories of tonight.

Teaching Hermione this past year had been heaven and hell. She had been the only student to decide to return to Hogwarts and study her seventh year in full. In actuality she had been through a much more rigorous regime of teaching, being exposed to many master level magic's by each of the teachers during one to one lessons rather than proceeding through the standard 7th year programme.

Yes this year had been hellish but the education Hermione had received had been what the witch's talent deserved. Albus had been wrong to say that Hermione would be competition for the title of greatest living witch. Hermione already had it, it was just nobody realised it yet.

Music and laughter filled the air and smiled as Minerva made her way towards the drinks table. Pouring herself a glass of coca cola she smiled as the bubbles fizzed on her tongue.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a coke drinker." The familiar voice sent a small spark through Minerva. Her cat kneaded its paws in anticipation of pursuing the young woman. The past few months had shown just how right Albus had been, she felt like there was a real chance that maybe just maybe there could be something real between Hermione and herself.

"What can I say Hermione, I am filled with surprises." Minerva allowed her voice to take on a seductive edge as her emerald eyes enjoyed the view in front of her. Hermione's red silk dress conformed to every contour of the witch's body, the modest V-neck hinting at the treasures beneath. It took a moment for Minerva to summon the strength to move her gaze away from Hermione's chest. And her breath hitched as she took in the shapely legs, a convenient breeze revealing that Hermione was wearing stockings and not tights.

Hermione's eyes widen slightly, before her eyes sparkled and a coy smile lifted her delicate rose lips. Perhaps the old coot had been more right than she had wanted to admit. The surge of curiosity and desire to learn if those lips tasted as good they looked was almost overwhelming.

"That you are Minerva, in fact I think maybe we shoul – " The intimate lilt of Hermione's voice was cut short by a much coarser vocal.

"Hey there you are. Come on 'moine I've been looking for you let's dance." The clearly intoxicated red headed boy grabbed Hermione's arm pulling her away. His maroon robes already showing signs previous mishaps caught on his own foot, tearing slightly. Not that Weasley noticed as he continued pulling a reluctant Hermione away from Minerva. Her fingers squeezed the plastic cup in her hand and the brown bubbling liquid threaten to spill over. She wanted to march after them and demand he release Hermione.

"Ronald I'm talking, I don't want to dance." Minerva found herself unduly pleased with the angry tone Hermione used towards him.

The words of Ronald Weasley's answer faintly reached her ears, if it wasn't for her slightly enhanced hearing and Mr. Weasley's rather loud voice she would never have been able to make them out.

"Oh it's just ol' McGonagall she won't mind. She'd rather you had fun than be stuck talking to her." there was such an utterly dismissive tone to Weasley's voice. Minerva let her eyes flutter shut as she absorbed the cutting words.

"They make a good couple." Minerva's eyes opened to find Molly Weasley's standing in front of her, a proud look upon the matriarch's face as she watched her son and Hermione. It seemed Minerva just didn't have the will inside her to agree. The best she could summon up was a non-committal noise as raised her slightly battered cup.

"Just between you and me, Ron's planning on purposing soon. They're going to be so happy together."

Pain seemed to flare around her chest. Damn it she was a fool for letting herself believe Albus's words. Even from beyond the veil she had let herself be manipulated by her friend. She was meant to be alone, no matter what Albus had believed she was better off that way.

"Are you alright Minerva?" Molly's eyes watched the witch in front of her worriedly as Minerva rubbed her chest.

"Yes quite. Just a little heartburn. Congratulations, Hermione is a wonderful woman. I am sure she will make a good daughter in law." The brisk professional persona slid in to place, the Scottish accent helping to ensure no hint of Minerva's true feelings entered her voice.

"Heartburn." Molly tsked "probably from drinking these muggles drinks."

"More likely my age. I'm afraid I have to be getting back to Hogwarts." There was simply no way Minerva could remain if there was even the slightest chance of witnessing Weasley getting down on one knee. Better to leave now and work on forgetting the foolish notion of dating Hermione. Her brain was clearly addled from Albus's manipulations, she had even thought Hermione was flirting with her, that she had spelled that small gust of wind teasing Minerva with a view of her stockings.

"Already? But it's still so early."

"Unfortunately I find myself searching for another transfiguration professor. It has been good to see you again molly. Give my best to Arthur and the others." All Minerva wanted was to be away from this, away from the foolish notions she had allowed Albus to fill her head with. Hermione was a woman in love with another and barely out of school.

The problem with Albus, was he could always make you hope, even when no other could. And hope was powerful and addictive it could cause people to do the most ridiculous things. It overrode logic and fear, pushing you onwards long after you should have surrendered. It wasn't love that conquered all but blind hope and even knowing that Minerva had still fallen for the lie that was hope.

"Of course, goodnight Minerva."

"Goodbye."

Molly watched as Minerva walked to Filius and whispered to the floating charms professor before apparating away. Molly shock her head hoping the few muggles present would chalk up anything they noticed to over indulgence. She couldn't help thinking though that something was wrong with the world renowned headmistress.

"Where did Minerva go?" the anxious and slightly out of breathe question took Molly by surprise. Not least because of the use of Minerva's first name, which for some unknown reason it made her deeply uneasy. Turning she met the gaze of her soon to be daughter.

"Professor McGonagall had some business at Hogwarts she had to get back to. She said to give you her best wishes though dear."

Hermione blinked at her for a moment and if it hadn't been for the movement of her eyelids, Molly would have thought Hermione had been hit by a stunning spell. Molly watched with rising worry as Hermione reached for the drinks table and poured herself a rather generous measure of gin. The young witch knocked it back in one go before reaching for the bottle again.

Molly couldn't help herself, her hand shot out stalling Hermione's arm. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I really don't think - "

"As it is my party and I wish to drink, yes I think it's a good idea. You are more than welcome to leave whenever you like Molly."

She released Hermione's arm surprised by the coldness of the girl's words. Since their year on the run Hermione had become colder, more jaded. But it had seemed better the last time they had met.

Ron's arm wrapped around Hermione's waist as the girl swallowed the potent alcohol grimacing, it was odd that Hermione hadn't grimaced before but Molly dismissed the random musing. Ron was here now, he would be able to cheer Hermione up. Molly smiled slightly as Ron pulled the brown haired witch on to the impromptu dance floor despite her protests.

Yes, she had a feeling everything was going to work out for the best. She was sure her hopes for Ron would come true, a loving wife and a family with you know who gone and Hermione's schooling over, it was just a matter of time.


	5. Was I meant to feel happy

_A/N: My thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far you keep me writing and to those I have not replied to I am sorry. I'm also sorry for the long break since the last update but my life has gone to hell in a hand basket._

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><p><em>Chap 5 - Was I meant to feel happy, That my life was just about to change<em>

Christmas Eve 1999 (four months after the party)

"I said no Ron. Nothing's changed." Her voice was frim and unyielding as she stared into the semi darkness, her eyes never leaving Ron's. The weak afternoon light shone through the small window in the chicken shed fighting to illuminate the gloom.

"How can you say that! You're pregnant Hermione, pregnant with MY kid." Ron's voice exploded from him causing the chickens scattered around their feet to take fright. Clucking madly they surged around the room, looking for escape as the humans ignored them.

"I don't want to get married to you Ron, that hasn't changed." Despite her determination to stay calm Hermione could feel her patience beginning to fray. She crossed her arms, the thick woollen fabric of her outer traveling robes warming her fingers up.

"Then we'll move in together, and start dating until you do want to marry me." Frustration seemed to radiate from him as they stood facing one another.

"No Ron. I'm sorry but I can't be anything to you other than a friend." The run down shed didn't allow for much distance between them and Hermione wished she could step back.

"Nothing but a friend?" Disbelief rang in his words. "We've fought You Know Who together, you lost your virginity to me, and you're the mother of my child! WE'RE A LOT MORE THAN BLOODY FRIENDS!" Ron's hands ran through his hair as he pulled great gasps of air into his lungs.

He just couldn't understand how this had happened. Ron stared into the face of the woman he loved, not believing that she wouldn't marry him.

"Look I know that night, I was a bit over zealous and wasn't any good. But I talked to Bill about things, and he explained how I should have spent more time on the, you know, foreplay. I can do better, next time I'll be better. Please 'moine I love you."

"You spoke to your brother about that night?" Hermione's arms fall to her side as her eyes widened. How could he have done that? How was she meant to face Bill again knowing Ron had told him details about her.

"Yeah." He shrugged his shoulders "I had to understand what I did wrong." The total lack of comprehension was unbelievable. Every time she thought she truly understood how little emotional capacity Ron had, he proved he had less.

Hermione held her head in her left hand, her hair falling around her. Cutting her off from the world for a moment as she fought to accept the fact her first experience of sex was a topic of conversation. It only solidified her belief in the decision she had come to about the child.

"Ron you didn't do anything wrong, I'm not in love with you. And I'm not going to move in with you." She just had to make sure he understood this wasn't something he could change her mind on.

Ron threw his hands up in the air.

"You're pregnant Hermione, P R E G N A N T. you have no job, no money and your family are still somewhere in Australia with no memory of you! See sense, if you don't want to sleep together fine, but give us a chance, at least for the sake of the baby." Ron's hands were gripping Hermione's shoulders lovingly, his thumbs rubbing small circles against her woollen robes. And for a moment Hermione wavered, would it really be so bad? Wouldn't it be better for the baby to have both of them?

Hermione's eyes focused on Ron's shoulder, she could let herself sink in to his embrace, rest her head on that jumper covered shoulder and let herself be taken care of. Slowly Ron leaned in his solid lips gently pressing against hers.

She felt nothing.

No spark, no joy, not even mild pleasure. The kiss was flat and empty, lacking even the comfort that a kiss between family provided. Pulling away, Hermione turned her back on Ron, choosing instead to stare out the open door towards the bungalow. A cold wind whistled past, thick clouds drifted across the sky obscuring the rapidly fading sunlight. Hermione wrapped her arms around, there was a chance it would snow tonight making for a magical snow covered Christmas. The whole of the Weasley clan was there, enjoying a firewhiskey and trading stories as the wireless played Christmas carols. A perfect Christmas, and she was about to ruin it.

"I'm sorry Ron. I've made my decision. Why don't you take a few minutes while I go explain things to your family." She ignored the numbing cold creeping into her fingers, Hermione could almost hear Molly's voice calling her a cold bitch. Without waiting for an answer the bushy haired witch began walking towards the Weasley family home.

Ron stood and watched as everything he wanted in his life walked away from him. Tears ran down his face lacking the will or strength to wipe them away he let them fall where they may. He had always assumed Hermione telling him she was pregnant would be one of the best days of his life. Now he wondered how much firewhiskey it would take for him to wipe this day from his memory.

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><p>.<p>

Hermione pushed open the battered wooden door of the bungalow, her heart pounding so hard she wasn't sure it wasn't about to give out on her. Taking a deep breath of the pine scent air to try and calm her nerves she pushed forward into the living room. Dropping her hand into her pocket she clutched at the powder there. The fine gritty substance dug into the grooves of her hand, grounding her, giving her something to focus on other than the bile twisting in her stomach.

The scene that greeted her in the living room belonged on a hallmark card. A fire crackled merrily consuming the wood within the grate, and pushing back the winter chill. Arthur sat in a chair next to Molly, their hands entwined as soft, warbling carols wrapped around the room. Firelight reflected and sparkled off the shiny ornaments decorating the large pine tree whose traditional, (at least by Weasley family standards), gnome fairy brushed the ceiling.

In front of the tree, Percy and George sat by a small table building a house of cards with what looked suspiciously like exploding cards. Charlie watched them, his face alight with mirth. One half of the sofa was taken up with Harry and Ginny, the other half by Bill. His wife, Fleur sat on his lap her hands playing with the ends of his long hair. Hermione stood and stared at them all, soaking up the moment, all so perfect, all so happy. She didn't belong, she never had. She was broken.

Harry turned to meet her, his brow creasing, and he tightened the arm wrapped around Ginny. Everyone else's gaze was soon trained on her. Molly's excited eyes lost their sparkle as she saw the expression on Hermione's face. That was not the face of a woman who was here to inform them she had changed her mind and accepted their son's marriage proposal.

Walking to the front of the fire Hermione cleared her throat, forcing her head up and her shoulders back. The weight of everyone's gazes settled on her, she could feel her knees threatening to give way beneath her. She stood frozen until George cleared his throat. "Going to tell us what the news is love?"

Woodenly Hermione nodded. She had practiced several speeches, but it seemed her memory to betray her. She couldn't remember a fucking word of them. Self-disgust rose in her, how pathetic, she really hadn't changed since that first year of Hogwarts, scared she would fail a test. Finally Hermione's jaw unlocked and the words spilled forth.

"I'm pregnant with Ron's child. I'm not getting back with him, I'm leaving the country." With that Hermione turned her back on the stunned faces and threw the floo powder into the fire. She whispered the words "Leaky Cauldron" as she stepped into the green flames and span away from the silent room.

Not even bothering to brush the soot from her robes, Hermione walked quickly towards the bar. Tom seeing her coming nodded and limped towards the end of the bar. As he passed her the small satchel which contained everything she owned Hermione felt herself relax marginally.

"Thanks for looking after this for me Tom." Reaching into her pocket she retrieved a galleon and handed it over.

"No problem miss, no problem." He beamed a wide toothy smile up at her.

Nodding goodbye Hermione quickly made her way towards muggle London, knowing it wouldn't be long before she was followed. She wondered how Ron would take it when he learned she had left the country. Stepping into the rundown street she watched the sunset blaze across London. Checking no one was watching, she turned sharply on the spot, disappearing with barely a sound.

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><p>.<p>

The fire in the Leaky Cauldron flared and Harry Potter stepped out, concern and worry evident on his face. Seconds after he left the fire, he was joined by Ginny Weasley.

"Tom, Tom." The old proprietor turned towards them surprised to find himself so busy on Christmas eve. Most of Diagon Ally had closed for the day at noon with shoppers already home and huddled round their fires.

"Master Harry, what can I do for you?"

"Have you seen Hermione Granger?" Harry's voice was almost frantic, and Tom raised his eyebrows wondering just what was going on.

"Only a few moments ago, she headed out into muggle London." At his words Harry began striding out the door.

"Did she have any luggage with her? Or meet up with anyone?" The young woman's voice was much calmer but the concern for her friend shone in her eyes.

"Just the satchel she left with me earlier in the day." Ginny's shoulders dropped, she knew now her friend was gone.

"There's no sign of her. She must have apparated, we should head to her flat. We can probably catch up with her." Harry said as he made his way back to his girlfriend.

Ginny shook her head. "She's gone Harry."

"We don't know that."

"She picked up a bag while she was here, you know how she can pack. Hermione's already left for wherever she's going." Harry pulled her into a hug, both of them needing to feel the reassurance of the other.

"God Harry what if something happens to her?" Her muffled words spoken into his shoulder made Harry hold her tighter.

"She's the smartest witch we know, she'll be ok." He buried his head in his girlfriend's neck and desperately hoped that the friend who had never deserted him would be alright. _God what was Hermione thinking?_

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><p>.<p>

Hermione breathed in the frozen Romanian air as she rested for a moment. Hermione had taken this route a few months ago during her first trip to search for her parents. Lacking the funds for a muggle plane ticket, she had explored magical means of making the 10,000 mile journey.

Broom travel was out, Hermione doubted she could last ten miles never mind 10,000. The knight bus didn't leave the country, and the way to floo out was through the ministry which required permissions and forms stating your destinations. In which case she may as well have invited Ron along. The Sunshine Boat regularly left port in Dover and travelled all over the world but the cost was almost as bad as a plane ticket. Which left only apparition.

It had been surprising to learn the ministry recommended that no one apparated further than 200 miles due to an increase in the chances of magical exhaustion and splinching. It also became more difficult to correct the effects and reattach any missing body parts. During her time on the run Hermione had regularly apparated further than that - often side along apparating Harry and Ron. And she had been confident that apparating much larger distances posed no real risk to her safety.

Several experiments later and Hermione found that she could apperate nearly 2,000 miles and feel only mildly tired. It had meant she could make it to Australia in six apparitions - water got in the way forcing an extra apparition. Sighing Hermione gathered her power and disappareated before any immigration wizards arrived. Being caught entering the country without permission would probably result in her spending Christmas in a jail cell.

Hopscotching across the continent Hermione made it to Thailand. Feeling weary down to her bones Hermione decided to rest for a few hours. Luckily Thailand was much less concerned with traveling witches and wizards, so there would be no visit from irate immigration officials. It had taken her perhaps an hour to make it half way across the world, add in the time difference and it was now a few minutes into Christmas day. Heading out on to the quiet streets Hermione made a bee line for one of the many hostels aimed at backpackers. It looked clean and welcoming but more importantly it was nearby. Her body ached, the stress of the day weighing her down and she tried to push away the memories of Ron's broken face.

"Merry Christmas! Welcome, you need a room? We have good rates, best around." The small Thai woman behind the counter grinned, her eyes sparkling happily.

"Do you accept US dollars?" Hermione had found a surprising number of places accepted them. She pulled her father's old wallet from the inside of her cloak, her fingers caressing the worn leather fondly, mentally checking the amount of money.

"Of course, of course. How many nights you want to stay?"

"Just the one night please."

"Ok $30."

Too tired to haggle Hermione handed over her money and followed the kind woman into the hostel eagerly. A few hours rest and she would be in Australia searching for her parents. Her right hand rested over her belly, _soon we'll find your grandparents and everything will work out I promise. _

However it wasn't thoughts of her parents that lulled her to sleep, but memories of a soft Scottish burr and laughing emerald eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_[/A/N: My thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far you keep me writing you are awesome. I'm also sorry for the long break since the last update but things have not been good. I friend of mine is recovering from surgery at the moment and I just want to wish her a speedy recovery - take care of yourself Ag._

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><p>Chap 6 - Cause it's my problem, If I want to pack up and run away<p>

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><p>Christmas day 1999<p>

A good night's sleep had been just what the she needed. The early morning sun glittered off Melbourne's urban landscape. Placing her hand on her stomach Hermione patted her still mostly flat stomach. She was four months pregnant and just starting to show, although it still looked more like she had just eaten one too many chocolate frogs. "Merry Christmas little one. Let's see if we can't find your grandparents today."

Last year, Hermione had only had a week to search for her parents. Trying to find where they had gone in a country as large as Australia was no easy task. Especially, as it appeared that they had spent the better part of a year wandering through the Australian outback. After a week spent chasing ghosts and rumours across the country, Hermione had been forced to return to Britain.

However she hadn't stopped her research entirely during her final year at Hogwarts. And after studying a map until she worried her eyes might become permanently damaged, she had come to believe that her parents were heading for Melbourne. Which was why, after spending a few hours resting in Bangkok, she had grabbed a quick breakfast and apparated straight to the cosmopolitan city.

Blinking into the sunlight one last time, Hermione headed into Melbourne public library. Cool air rushed over her and she sighed in relief, outside the morning temperature was already unpleasantly hot. The smell of paper and ink tickled her nose, and she breathed deeply letting the comforting scent fill her lungs. She could almost hear the voices of her friends teasing her about her love of books. God, why did she feel more at home surrounded by books then she did people? The scars on her arm seemed to throb, and for just a moment she could hear her spine cracking again. Ah yes that was why. Because people are evil, individuals were a different matter, but people as a whole had very little going for them.

She had bled to defeat Voldemort, had fought him since she was 11, had stood beside Harry when all others had abandoned him – even Ron. And yet while Harry and Ron were hailed as hero's and showered with awards, her role was largely ignored. Hermione wasn't looking for fame or platitudes, but to be dismissed as Harry's plucky muggle born friend was insulting. Then, to watch as the role of muggle borns was quietly erased from the history of the Voldemort's destruction. Hermione sighed, she knew that she was becoming bitter, but she could see the seeds of future conflicts being sown. Pushing such thoughts to one side, Hermione tried to focus on what she came here to do.

The place was thankfully rather empty of people, and the subdued atmosphere helped Hermione relax and focus. It didn't take her long to locate the reference area of the large building ,and within a few minutes she was heading to a table with the electoral roll in her hands. Given that voting is mandatory in Australia, it was a good bet that if they were living in the city they'd be listed. Skimming quickly through the document Hermione located the fake name she had given to her parents. In fact there were actually three possible addresses, and Hermione sighed as she reached into her bag to summon a quill and parchment.

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><p>.<p>

Hermione stood in front of the house at the start off a small cul-de-sac. The small front garden was unkempt and overgrown; the tiny patch of lawn brown and dry. A large plank of wood stood nailed across the front door sealing it shut. Its presence a warning to the world to keep out, to move past this abandoned house and forget you ever saw it.

Hermione didn't move, she simply stared at it. She might be wrong this might not be her parents' house. But her gut said otherwise. Her stomach twisted back and forth withering like a snake. Desperately Hermione tried not to imagine just what the dark mark would look like floating above the rooftop.

The sun beat down mercilessly upon her, sweat trickled down her spine, and she knew she should cast a cooling spell on herself. But she stood there frozen in the sun dreading what was to come. A subtle fluttering from her navel finally freed her body from its frozen state. Hermione stared down at her stomach, her hand moved to rub gentle circles against her belly. The fluttering had started a few days ago, and she knew it was her baby moving around. Silently she apologised to her little one for scaring it.

Finally gathering her courage, Hermione looked back up at the one story house and forced her feet to move her forward, one hand resting protectively over her belly as the other reached for her wand. Stepping on to the porch, a simple set of spells opened the door and froze the alarm.

The stale air seemed heavy and dark as Hermione entered the hallway. A large picture of her parents kissing in front of a sparkling blue ocean greeted her, and she gripped her wand tighter. She could feel herself shutting down, becoming numb to it. Carrying on deeper into the house, she came to a huge open plan living space. One wall was entirely glass, with sliding patio doors leading out to what looked like a small pool. It was a beautiful view, and she knew her father would have loved the sense of space the room gave. She could almost see him standing beside her, a content smile playing across his face as he drank in the feel of it all.

Small brown spots marred the glass, pulling her back from visions of her father. Her eyes naturally followed the trail of spots across the doors and onto the pale yellow walls. It seemed to take several long moments before she was able to register the faded brown, flaking message that had clearly been left for her.

'_It doesn't matter where you try to hide them mudblood, the Dark Lord sees all. Soon you'll be as dead as the whores who spawned you.'_

The joke was on them really, Hermione thought absently. They must have expected her to get word of her parents' deaths and be demoralised. Instead, the Dark Lord was long dead and her morale of no consequence.

Walking around the room Hermione took in the little details of her parents lives. Most of the large furniture, such as the sofa was missing. But everywhere she looked she could see her mother's touches or a hint of her father. The tiffany style lamps her mother always loved, the leather foot stool, her father's favourite book. Hermione felt like she was drowning in her parents' presence.

Ignoring the way the stiff, rust coloured patches of carpet crunched under her feet, Hermione walked across to one of the doors that led to the other rooms and continued exploring. She had missed her family so much and now, here in the house they lost their lives in, was as close as she would ever get to be. And so she would drown in them a little longer.

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><p>.<p>

Shrinking the picture of her parents kissing on the beach, Hermione added it to her bag with the rest of her possessions. One thing life had taught her was the importance of not shying away or ignoring the mistakes which you make in life, and every time she saw that photo, she would remember just how much her decisions had cost her. She would never let herself forget the part she played in the death of her parents.

A few flicks of her wand later, the house was once again secure. The question was how to proceed now. There was no way Hermione was leaving until she knew who had killed her witty intelligent mother and her calm smiling father. What had become of their bodies? She would need to organise a funeral unless they were in a paupers grave. And it was that thought which brought Hermione to her knees, hunched over and retching.


End file.
